


Good To See You

by Southbroom



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/M, OITNB - Freeform, One Shot, Orange Is The New Black - Freeform, Post-Canon, Start of a Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southbroom/pseuds/Southbroom
Summary: An unexpected meeting between two old friends.





	Good To See You

Sam felt warm August sunshine hit his face. He had reached the top of the metro stairs and he stood static, admiring the sensation. It was a welcome feeling since he had not dressed properly for the chill of the early morning. He had been so accustomed to being indoors that he almost forgot what the outside weather was like.

 _New Fucking York_. He felt himself smiling. _The Big Apple, the centre of the universe_.

Indeed, it seemed to be the centre of everything. An unending influx of humans darted across the streets, bumping against his shoulders. There were clusters of the usual grumpy-looking city inhabitants buzzing about, shouting into their phones or tapping to the beat of headphones. Sam spotted the a cluster of marvelling tourists. They were blatantly easy to tell apart from the New Yorkers because of the meandering pace at which they traveled. A large group of them stopped to take a photo, which seemed to irritate a few businesspeople.

 _What are you people so rushed for_ , he wondered, _It is Sunday, after all_.

And so Sam Healy found himself bobbing through the flow of the city, seeing where it would lead him. As physically unfit - and ageing - as he was, Sam managed to cover quiet a distance. He only stopped twice until his stomach announced it was time for lunch. By that time he was on the outskirts of Queens.

Immigrant grocery stores and fashion outlets dominated the neighbourhood. He remained undecided on what fast food to pick - he never really liked Chinese food, and Mexican food wasn’t much better. Then he noticed a couple wander out a glass door across the street. The toddler in their stroller carried a box with delicate pastries. Some stackable Russian dolls in the window caught his eye, as well as the indecipherable Cyrillic script on the sign.

He sighed, thinking immediately of Katya. He never did learn to speak Russian properly for her. He never did win her love again. They had divorced five years back, and he found himself wondering why he married her in the first place.

Sam entered the restaurant with the ‘clink’ of a bell attached to the door. Other than the long line formed at the counter, the bakery seemed peaceful. It was clearly a restaurant for families. Children and parents filled the room, chatting and laughing. A few old ladies were talking about the imported Russian food. An elderly Asian man sat in the counter, smoking a cigarette.

The place was so peaceful that he took a seat beside the window. He had the intention of watching the people in the street, and he did, until a familiar voice caught his attention.

“You don’t have to think, Pyotr. Selling things is all about your _attitude_.”

He spied a shock of flaming hair behind the counter and nearly fell over in his seat. _Reznokov,_  he knew immediately. _Red!_

“Smiles and waves, _milyy mal’chik.”_

Red cupped the face of the small boy in front of her. Was it her grandson? Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Sam did not recognising the kind, soft look on her face. She never took it out in prison.

“You see, Pyotr, my restaurant would have stayed open if if wasn’t for your grandfather and his inability to charm people. _Smile_.” she commanded, and the boy pulled a toothy grin. “Perfect.”

“Mamma.” A man’s voice from the back warned. “Don’t speak rubbish about Dad in front my son.”

 _And there she is_ , Healy thought to himself. _Red, head of the kitchen._ The woman with fire in her eyes; her arms crossed in her I-don’t-take-shit disposition and her painted lips pushed together in a tight line.

“Don’t speak - you’re asking me to not speak of…” she trailed off, rolling her eyes. She disappeared through a door. Sam could make out the basics of the conversation with his rather rusty Russian. She said something along the lines of “that idiot”, “useless” and a colourful array of curse words.

Once she returned to the kitchen, Red finished the argument with the punchline. “I may call him whatever I want too. Two months out of that place, Vasily, and I open the doors of Reznikov’s again. You ought to be _kissing_ my feet.”

Red returned to her post by the counter and started attacking a board of onions.

“Grandma?” Pyotr called gently. 

“Go and practise on that gentleman in the window, will you?” Red said softly, looking dismissively over at Sam. His back straightened as her gaze fell on his, without a hint of recognition. A pang of hurt arose in his chest. Was it twenty-one, twenty-two years that he worked at Litchfeild while Red was there? He supposed she was pre-occupied with the onions and the boy, but wouldn’t she recognise such a familiar face?

Pyotr approached Sam. The plastered-on grin and manic wave not doing much to hide the boy’s nervousness.

“Hello there.” Sam greeted.

“Good morning, sir. May I take your order?” the boy asked, surprisingly professional for a boy of seven or eight.

“I’ve never been here before. What’s the best thing to eat?”

“My grandmother makes these things called ‘***’. They’re pastries.”

“Are they popular here?”

“Quiet. We sold a lot last week when we reopened the store.”

“It was closed down? That’s sorry to heard. Well what’s in these ‘***’?”

“******”

“They sound delicious. I’ll have one, thank you.”

The boy nodded sharply, turning on his feet.

“One more thing. Do you mind calling your grandma for me? Tell her that Sam’s here.”

Pyotr frowned, confused by his instruction. “Yes, sir. Okay…” The boy paraded back through the bee line and then ducked under the counter. Sam watched eagerly as the boy whispered into her ear. And then Red turned to face him. Initially irritated, until she recognised him. He then got the reaction he had been hoping for. Her eyes were as round as saucers, looking horrified.

Her concerned furrow deepened and then she disappeared through the back. Confused, Sam walked up to the counter.

He left Litchfeild abruptly and without warning, but he and Red did not part with bad blood. It all came back to him then: the twenty years of meetings about her kitchen’s freezer. All the times he talked to her at the greenhouse, gave her seed packets. And of course the times she watered his ‘ego flower’.

Then he remembered Morello’s wedding and how she wept. Her cold and rock-hard demeanour was ruined with the tears forming around her eyes. He remembered the way that she looked at him that day in the visitation room and his chest clenched. Those were raw, emotional times for them both.

“Are you in the queue?” someone asked.

“No. I’m just waiting for someone.”

Then she seemed to appear next to him all of a sudden, a hand on his arm.

“Healy?” she asked, and he nearly died of admiration. His name sounded better in her accent.

“Red.” he smiled. “Is this your shop? The kitchen you ran before…”

She nodded, eyes wondering down to the floor. Her white chef’s apron was folded in her arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly. Her downcast expression made him think think that she might have tears in her eyes.

She did not. “Sit down.” she instructed, sliding into a booth after him.

“You look like you’re seeing a ghost. A ghost from your past, maybe?” he joked.

“I thought you were dead.” she said rashly.

“Dead!” He exclaimed in amusement.

“What? You disappear one day and then the riot happened…that circus. After Caputo left and place closed down there was not way of contacting you. The only information I could get said that you went to hospital.” 

“I- I did.” he said unsteadily. If possible, her wide blue eyes regarded him with more sympathy, “It was a difficult time. I wasn’t feeling happy or appreciated when Rogers came to the scene. Well I went to psychiatric hospital… Well I got onto the right meds, spoke to the right people. I divorced Katya and went on this road trip with my brother. It lasted about two years and I… Well I’m rambling now but I’m really happy, Red. I feel better than I ever can recall.”

She grinned suddenly, a sight he was not used to seeing. Her hard our-shell that prison created seemed to be wearing off. To his surprise, she reached out across the table, squeezing his hand.

“That is good news.” she spoke, pulling her hands back to her chef’s apron. “You were not made for that place.”

“Litchfeild? Neither were you.”

She shook her head quietly. They both knew she was a lot better at prison than him. His new job as an actual social worker suited him a lot better.

“Your grandson, he is sweet. 

“Pyotr? He has more balls than all the men in my family put together. He will inherit this place.” she said with certainly.

“You’re not that old, Red.”

 _If she was thinking of retirement already_ …

“I am not retiring.” she stated, as if reading his mind, “I only just started getting this place together. Piper - you know, Chapman? - loaned me some money. I got this place un-mortgaged a while back.”

“It looks like it’s going fantastic. You look really happy here, busy.” he said, gazing at the people behind the counter who must be her family. “You look for filled.” he said. After so many years of listening to her complain about her ambition wasted, he could safely say that.

“Why did you not contact me?” she said. It was not angry, not really demanding either.

“I - I thought-“

 _Our ships passed too late in the night_ , her old words echoed in his head.

“I got an extra _two years_ after the riot. Time that I didn’t need, or deserve.” she frowned, “I spent a long time thinking about you.”

“And me about you! I cannot tell you how much Greg told me to call you. I just thought that you did not want to see me, especially after-“

“-Morello’s wedding. Yes, I was unreasonable.” she said. “Stupid platitudes. Never listen to Russian proverbs. They’re shit.” 

It went quiet suddenly, the sounds of the restaurant coming back to his conscious. Healy stared at her, his mouth nearly falling open. _Did this mean she-_

“Ma!” Vasily called, “Must I bring you coffee? For you and your friend?” he asked sarcastically, irritated with managing his job in the kitchen and Red’s by the counter.

Red closed her eyes, breathing hard. She was clearly having some tensions with her son. Perhaps he could leave and come back when her shift ended. Or just sit and talk to her as she worked.

“Vasily, this is not-“

“Hello, you’re her son, right.” Sam asked politely.

“Yes?” he said rather rudely with the same amount of sass as Red would have. He did not have to ask that question, for Red’s oldest already resembled her so.

“I’m Sam, Sam Healy. I am an old friend of your mom’s.” He explained, not really knowing where he was going with the conversation. “Your mom is taking her lunch break with me, so yes, she would like that cappuccino. And I’d like a latte, thank you.”

Vasily looked at his mother, as if waiting for her to object, but Red remained sitting. Eventually her son ended the stare-off and noises came from the coffee machine in the background.

Red raised her eyebrows at him, clearly astonished by his directness.

“I don’t know where that came from.” he apologised, but her smile told him that he had done exactly the right thing.

She muttered something in Russian, shaking her head in disbelief. 

And his Russian was rusty, but Sam could translate.

“ ‘He not only had teeth, but claws’? What is that supposed to mean?” he questioned.

“It is a good thing, Sam. A very good thing.”

Red’s smile was so encouraging that he reached out and cupped her hands.

“It is good to see you, you know.”

x

**Author's Note:**

> I am not so very sure of this ship. It has got me in two minds. However, I can safely say that I really love Red and Healy as separate characters though. Cannot wait for season 6! Red and Sam reunion (I hope)!
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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